


Supplication

by krasnayazorya



Category: King's Maker (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Feet, M/M, Religion, Service Submission, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, just like a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krasnayazorya/pseuds/krasnayazorya
Summary: Day 4 of WolfShin Week: ReligionIn which Wolfgang doesn't know faith, but he knows Shin.
Relationships: Wolfgang Goldenleonard/Shin Soohyuk
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Supplication

**Author's Note:**

> Whipped this up quickly, props to King's Maker for getting me to write again <3

In Wolfgang’s life, there has never truly been a place for worship. 

The one who grows up with everything taken away from them will not seek absolution, but rather create it themselves. It is a simple rule of thumb, one that Wolfgang exercises with care; he is willing to be moulded, to be created, not by divine but by human hands. Recently, he has learnt what it is like to slowly begin shaping himself, without the help of another.

It is exhausting.

Wolfgang likes to _do_ , he likes to move around, to hit things – it comes to him far more naturally than sitting in a room and reading papers, signing things, and seeing envoys every other hour. Though he has been trained by Shin for years, it has not made it any easier; plastering a smile on his face is easy enough, containing the ever-increasing pressure under his skin and the desire to stand up from his chair and bang something with his foot or to cast everything aside for an evening and simply run for miles and miles is significantly _harder_.

The proud look in Shin’s eyes is worth it, though.

It has always been worth it.

Shin does not show it often, has learnt to hide it masterfully, but at this point Wolfgang likes to think that he can read him well enough to see the minute upwards twitch in his lips when he hears Wolfgang speak courteously, the wonderful, rewarding blush that stains his cheeks a soft pink when he thinks that Wolfgang cannot see him.

Perhaps Wolfgang has never considered any sort of faith, but some base part of his brain, the one that screeches to a halt whenever he sees Shin at his most beautiful (which is always, truly, but especially when he is in his element, discussing imports and exports and ordering the payments for shipment, his eyes bright and his posture straight), wishes to build him an altar, to immortalise him.

The only thing stopping him (and he can do it if he wants; he is the king), is that he knows Shin would truly hate it.

Shin does not hate _this_ , though.

Just like many times before, Wolfgang follows him to his rooms under the pretence of some discussion or another. There are, of course, always things to discuss, but they both know each other’s moods; talking never lasts long.

Wolfgang places a kiss to the exposed part of Shin’s neck, right above his high collar. He revels in the light shiver that Shin graces him with, and the slight movement of his head to the side, exposing more skin for Wolfgang to pepper kisses across.

He trails across from the neck to the sharp jut of Shin’s jaw, nibbling lightly but not enough to leave a mark. Shin does not like marks, and despite his strong desire to show him off as his, Wolfgang listens.

“Your majesty, let me–” Shin reaches up to start unbuttoning his overcoat, but Wolfgang stops him.

“No. Let – let me?” 

Wolfgang’s fingers are deft unbuttoning the buttons. He turns Shin around in his arms, gaze intent on every inch of skin that is revealed to him. It makes Shin blush and turn his head, but Wolfgang does not attempt to make him look just yet. With the soft rustle of fabric dropping from shoulders and onto the floor, something in Wolfgang settles and calms.

“My clothes will get dirty.” Shin murmurs, hand pressed to mouth.

“Mhm.” Wolfgang grins back and leans over to collect the fallen coat and shirt to fold them carefully and place them over the back of a chair, pushed against the desk overflowing with papers.

The confusion is evident in Shin’s face as Wolfgang gathers him close again, this time pressing his lips to the newly exposed skin. He has to dip his head quite far to reach his chest, but the pull makes him giddy.

“Sit down for me? On the bed?”

Shin goes, and Wolfgang follows.

Usually, their positions are reversed. Wolfgang will be on the bed, with Shin perched comfortably on his lap, but today Wolfgang wants to take his time, to bask in the warmth that is Shin, just for him.

When Wolfgang drops to his knees in front of him, it incites a gasp from Shin, his hands flailing and pushing at Wolfgang’s shoulders.

“Your majesty–!”

Wolfgang rests his head against Shin’s hip and smiles.

“It’s alright. I want to. Will you give me this?” He remembers the comments that Shin made about his eyes; how they are his greatest weapon, and he exercises it with all his might. Turning them up at Shin he widens them just slightly, juts out his bottom lip and nuzzles into the white material of his trousers at the turn of Shin’s thigh.

A hand settles in his hair, carefully stroking it back from his forehead. As Wolfgang looks, Shin’s face floods with colour, teeth sinking into a plush bottom lip that he wants to kiss so badly, but kissing means moving from his position, which is somehow much more comfortable than he expected.

Foregoing Shin’s trousers, which earns him just the smidge of an annoyed look, one which he _adores_ , Wolfgang walks his hands further down Shin’s legs, curling his palm around his shapely calves.

He strokes Shin’s skin through the material there, feeling the tension slowly ebb away, until moving down further. Reverently, Wolfgang lifts Shin’s foot into his lap, easing off the right shoe first and setting it down, his fingers immediately finding the arch and pressing down. He knows how hard Shin works, how he is on his feet all the time, how much they must hurt—

Shin moans.

Time stops for a second. Wolfgang looks up at him, at the way his eyes are half-lidded, and his arousal hits him full speed.

Desire licked its flames up his spine from the moment he walked into Shin’s rooms, but that is normal; just the thought of being able to have Shin in his hands sends his head spinning on the best of days, but hearing his sounds, especially when Shin always tries to be so quiet about his pleasure, is heady.

Wolfgang is hard, painfully so, in a matter of seconds. He presses closer to Shin, his hips meeting his clothed leg as his fingers scramble to get the other shoe off. There is no elegant removal this time, just the thud of the heel hitting the ground in the quiet space as Wolfgang rushes to finish his job.

He wanted to disrobe Shin carefully, peel his trousers off and follow him up, to capture his lips and dip him back onto the bed and ravish him just as he deserves, spread across the bed with his hair in disarray and his glasses forgotten somewhere to the side. He wanted to grip his thighs and spread them, take him into his mouth as his fingers opened him up. He _wanted_.

It all changes as he kneels before him.

Something tells Wolfgang that this is exactly where he should be, at Shin’s feet, looking up at him.

His hips jerk again, and he finds that Shin, silently, moves his leg forward. _Permission_. Permission to thrust against the hard surface just as Wolfgang needs.

“Shin, just – just stay like this, just like that, please.” He groans, thrusting forward. 

It should be embarrassing, or below him, to grind against Shin’s leg like a dog, but it feels so good. The harsh floor under his knees, the warmth of Shin’s thigh under his cheek as he squeezes his eyes shut and chases his pleasure in such a base, uncivilised way.

“Your majesty,” Shin breathes above him, the fingers that carded through his hair suddenly tightening.

At the feeling of Shin’s hand clenching, Wolfgang’s hips stutter, and with a wet moan pressed against Shin’s thigh he cums into his trousers, like he is still a teenager rutting into his palm with his fist shoved into his mouth to stop his cries as he pleasures himself in a quiet alcove, unable to take himself back into his rooms after seeing a glimpse of Shin’s ankle from the way he crosses his legs.

The aftershocks of his orgasm make his hips twitch, and, curious, Shin takes his foot and pressed it down over the wetness that bloomed in his trousers, causing him to start.

“Your _majesty_ ,” He repeats, and this time Wolfgang can hear the curl of a smile in his voice. “Look at how much you came.”

This is his supplication. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find my King's Maker twitter: xenxentalks!


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